The Christmas Children (7 page)

“No,” Paul said slowly, and he looked at Carissa's tense features. “But I know Carissa is reluctant, and she'll be bearing the brunt of this because they'll be living in her house. She has a lot at stake.”

With her accumulated wealth, Carissa realized that she'd be ripe for plucking if anyone wanted to sue her. But she remembered what her grandmother had said the day she started to Florida: “It's a big change for you, my dear, but you'll never be happy living in this town. Always remember God's promise, ‘The
Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?”'

“If I thought of myself, I couldn't do this,” she said. “For some reason, God sent these children to this house when I was here to receive them. If I told you I wasn't afraid, I'd be lying. I don't know anything about cooking for children or buying their clothes.”

“Listen, my dear,” Belva said. “I've raised five kids. If you need any help, I'm as close as the telephone. And don't you worry about clothing. The church's clothing bank has good items. You bring the children in at two o'clock this afternoon, and we'll outfit them in whatever else they need.”

When the door closed behind the Townsends, Paul laughed softly. “Belva has always liked to be in charge of things,” he said, “but she will be a source of wisdom to us.”

“Well, we're committed. What do we do now?”

“Let's get the kids out of bed and tell them about the town's plans for them.”

Carissa said, “I dread checking Lauren's bed—she's apparently a bed wetter. I hoped the first night's incident was caused by stress, but if the bed-wetting persists, I'll have to talk to Belva about it. I won't ruin Naomi's furniture.”

“Which reminds me—I have to talk to Naomi. I'll go to the apartment and call her.”

“Please be candid with me. If she doesn't want
the children in the house, I'll take them to a motel and keep them.”

“I know my sister, and she'll understand the situation. But we'd better resolve the matter of where I'm going to live. If you're uncomfortable about staying alone with the children, I'll continue to sleep in Naomi's room.”

With her gaze downcast, Carissa wondered which situation would make her more uncomfortable. She was uneasy about being in the house alone with the kids. They didn't seem to be dangerous, but the media often carried reports of children who were violent.

But was it wise to share a house with Paul, when his every movement demonstrated his masculine attractiveness? She had sensed something exceptional about him from the very beginning, as if the qualities she'd always admired in men were all wrapped up in one bundle, Paul Spencer. Physically and emotionally, she was aware of his every move—his ready sense of humor, the lurking smile in his eyes, his warmheartedness, and the one lock of hair that consistently fell over his forehead. It wasn't worry over the children that had kept her awake last night, but Paul's presence in the house.

She tried to force her swirling emotions into order. For years she'd denied herself the companionship of any man. And suddenly the thought that had been nagging for entrance into her mind surged forward. She was five years older than Paul—too much of an
age difference to become more to him than a friend. She'd never approved of women who married men younger than themselves. She'd have to be careful she didn't reveal any of her thoughts to Paul, which would be embarrassing to both of them.

Annoyed that she was again thinking of marriage, she turned to Paul, hoping that her face didn't reveal the tumult of her thoughts.

“If you don't mind, I'd prefer it if you'd stay in the house with us. But you have to go to see Naomi, so don't let my hang-ups prevent you from going to Florida. If you stay here a few days, I'll be more accustomed to the kids by then.”

“I would like to see Naomi, but I won't leave you with all this responsibility. I committed to watching out for the children as much as you did. I'll find time to visit my sister.”

Paul shifted his eyes from her intense expression, afraid to contemplate why he craved Carissa's company. He could plead the necessity of helping with the children, but was that the real reason he intended to spend Christmas in Yuletide?

O
verjoyed that they were going to stay with Paul and Carissa, Lauren and Julie enthusiastically jumped into Carissa's SUV to go into town. Paul noticed that Alex was uneasy, and he glanced often from side to side. When they reached the church—a stone structure built from native materials and topped by a tall steeple—Paul drew Alex to one side.

“Alex, we aren't trying to trap you. Unless something else turns up, you can stay with Carissa and me until after Christmas.”

Alex shuffled his feet in the light dusting of snow that had fallen the night before.

“So be honest with me. Is there somebody looking for you?”

“I don't think so. I can't tell you anything else, because I want to keep my sisters together like Mom said. She was an adopted kid, and she didn't have
any idea whether she had any sisters or brothers. My aunts and uncles are all on my father's side. If they took us, they'd just do it so they could get state money for giving us a home. I promised Mom I'd look out for the girls.”

Paul privately thought that his mother had laid a heavy burden on the back of a fourteen-year-old. He put his arm around Alex's shoulders. “We'll help you keep your promise. Come on inside, and we'll find some more clothes.”

Belva met them in the church basement and introduced the church's pastor, Philip Erskine. The pastor was a young man who'd come to Yuletide three years ago.

“If you'll allow Belva to take care of the children's needs, I'd like to talk to you in my office,” Philip said to Carissa and Paul.

Knowing the children's insecurity, Carissa said, “Is that okay with you, kids? Belva will show you around the clothing room.”

“Where you gonna be?” Lauren said fearfully.

Pastor Erskine pointed to a door directly across the hall from the room that held the clothing. “That's my office. You can come in with us when you're finished. We'll leave the door open.”

“Remember, Belva,” Carissa said. “I'll purchase anything they need, but you'll have to tell me what to buy.”

Belva nodded. “We'll see what's available here in their sizes.”

Inviting them to sit, Pastor Erskine said, “This is my second Christmas in Yuletide. It's inconceivable to me that these people won't celebrate the birth of Jesus in their homes or the church. I don't believe that God has withdrawn His blessing from their town because of what happened twenty-five years ago, but I can't convince my congregation.”

With a smile, he continued. “If the local citizens feel that they've been given a chance to help the children and atone for that previous oversight, I believe I should take advantage of it. I'm not above exploiting that superstition to accomplish what I want.”

“Which is to have the town celebrate Christmas?” Paul said with a laugh.

“Right! Chief Townsend told me this morning that the two of you wanted to revive an old-time Christmas in Yuletide. Will you help me?”

Carissa and Paul exchanged glances. A faint light sparkled in the depths of Carissa's blue eyes, and Paul knew she was willing to do what the pastor asked.

“Suits me,” Paul said, “but we don't have much time.”

“So we must start right away,” the pastor said. “I'll call a meeting of some of the town's influential people tonight at seven. Will you come?”

“I wouldn't like to leave the children alone—they might run away,” Carissa said.

“Tonight is our monthly youth rally with activities
for all ages. Your children could profit by attending the meeting.”

Surprised at herself because she'd made all her decisions since she'd been on her own, Carissa looked to Paul for an answer.

“I'm willing,” he said. “For one thing, it will give the kids some diversion. Carissa and I aren't exactly gifted in entertaining children.” He glanced in Carissa's direction. “All right?”

“Yes. We'll be here tonight.”

 

Twelve people attended the meeting, and due to an intense spirit of cooperation, plans were formulated quickly.

“We've got our work cut out for us if we plan on getting all of these things done in the next two weeks,” Paul said as they were driving home. “The decorations should be up now, so people from out of town can come to see them.”

“If we extend the time until after the first of the year, tourists will have the opportunity to stop by,” Carissa added. “Especially if the mayor gets coverage in big-city newspapers.”

The committee had decided that within the next week, the stores would be decorated, and a large spruce tree, in a vacant lot near City Hall, would be covered with colored lights. The pastor had referred to a catalog featuring lighted commercial displays, wishing they could erect an exhibition along the lakefront.

When he bemoaned the fact that even a modest display would cost five thousand dollars, Carissa had said, “I'll pay for the display. Go ahead and order what you need.”

All heads had turned in her direction, and she wished she'd waited until later to tell the pastor. Normally, she made her charitable contributions more discreetly.

“That's good of you, Miss Whitmore.” Pastor Erskine had surveyed the group seated in his small office. “But is there time to get these things and have them erected?”

The pastor's secretary had said, “I looked through that catalog, and the company sends representatives to erect the displays and put them into operation.”

Embarrassed when, at the close of the meeting, several of the people thanked her warmly for contributing the money for the light display, Carissa had wished again that she hadn't made her donation public. Paul had made no comment one way or another.

On the way home, as Carissa expertly handled her vehicle on the slippery roads, Paul realized that he had apparently been the only one who wasn't pleased about Carissa's generous offer. He should have complimented her, too, but he was wary of people, and especially women, who had a lot of money. Although Jennifer had insisted she loved him, she'd jilted him because he was poor. When she'd had the opportunity to marry a rich man, Jennifer had chosen money over her love for Paul.

Carissa had noticed that Paul seemed to be the only one at the meeting not overjoyed that the town would have a light display. And even as they talked in the car, she wondered why he didn't mention her offer.

“You kids have a good time?” he asked the children, as Carissa parked, and the kids tumbled out of the SUV.

Julie grabbed Paul's hand and held up a Christmas ornament she'd made. “Look, Uncle Paul. The teacher told us to put this on our tree.”

“Are we gonna have a Christmas tree?” Lauren asked. “We couldn't have one last year.”

Carissa looked to Paul for that decision, too, and he answered easily enough, although she sensed his preoccupation.

“Of course we'll have a tree. We can cut one on the hill behind the house.”

“What did your group do?” Carissa asked Alex as they entered the house.

“Played games. My team got the Ping-Pong trophy for the most wins. We played Bingo, too. I won three candy bars. Here, girls,” he said, handing a bar to each of his sisters.

“Maybe we'd better save ours until tomorrow,” Lauren said, when Julie started opening the package.

Carissa couldn't determine whether Lauren was concerned because they shouldn't eat chocolate at bedtime, or whether she'd developed the habit of hoarding because of the scarcity of food in their
home. Wondering how many times these children had gone to bed hungry, Carissa said, “Why don't you eat half of the candy now and keep the rest until tomorrow?”

“We had 'freshments at the church,” Julie admitted. “And Mommy didn't want us to eat before bedtime.”

“Then, by all means, save the candy until tomorrow.”

 

The fragrance of coffee awakened Carissa the next morning. She'd slept well in spite of her concern over Paul's attitude last night. When she tried to pinpoint when he'd changed, she traced it to the time she'd volunteered to pay for the light display. Did he think she was flaunting her money? After being so poor through her childhood and feeling inferior to most of the other children in her school, Carissa had made an effort not to offend anyone with her prosperity.

She peered into the other bedroom. Lauren and Julie were still sleeping, so Carissa closed the door between the rooms. She showered and dressed in jeans and a turtleneck sweater before going downstairs.

Paul was busy in the kitchen. He'd prepared a pitcher of frozen orange juice. Sausage patties were laid out ready for the microwave, and he was mixing something in a bowl.

“You're energetic this morning,” Carissa said
when she entered the kitchen. “Are you making a cake?”

He grinned at her in his usual way, saying, “This is pancake batter. I decided we should have something besides sweet rolls this morning. Do you like pancakes?”

“Very much, but I get mine from the freezer section in the grocery store, then pop them in the microwave. I haven't had homemade pancakes since I lived with my grandmother. It isn't much fun to cook for one person.”

“I'm no fancy cook, but I like to putter around the kitchen.”

“Good!” Carissa said, a teasing quality in her voice. “Then, you can be the cook for this joint venture we've taken on.”

“Suits me! You can take care of any homework that has to be supervised, as well as discipline the kids.”

“I'll pass on that, too,” Carissa said. “I believe parents should work as a team in disciplining their children. I grew up in an all-female household, and I always felt I'd missed a lot by not having some male influence.”

“What happened to your father?” Paul asked.

“Well, about that…” Carissa started. At the strain in her voice, Paul looked at her questioningly. Before she could finish, Alex walked into the kitchen.

“Hey!” he said. “I smell food.”

“And good food, too,” Carissa said, obviously re
lieved that Alex had interrupted them. “I'll see if Julie and Lauren are out of bed.”

“What can I do to help?” Alex asked Paul as Carissa turned toward the steps.

She was tormented by confusing emotions. Why did she find it so difficult to talk about her teen years?

She hadn't wanted any of her business associates to know of her past, and she'd never told anyone about her sordid family background. When she left Minnesota at eighteen, Carissa had believed that her unsavory past would follow her, but miraculously, it hadn't. Therefore, for over twenty years, she'd been spared talking about that period of her life. If Alex hadn't walked in, would she have told Paul?

Carissa supervised the girls while they showered and changed into some of the clothes they'd gotten at the clothing bank. She couldn't imagine that two sisters could have such opposite personalities. Julie only took a few minutes to decide what clothes she wanted to wear, and dressed quickly without much supervision from Carissa.

Lauren, on the other hand, chose one shirt, but when she put it on, she started crying. “Miss Cara, Julie's clothes are all prettier than mine.”

“But, Lauren,” Carissa said, “you had the opportunity to choose what things you wanted.”

“Yes, but the clothes in my size weren't very pretty.”

“Of course they are,” Carissa said. She turned
Lauren to face the mirror. “The brown in this shirt is the color of your hair, and these little yellow stripes reflect the golden flecks in your eyes. I think you made a great choice.”

“Do you
really
think so?” Julie asked worriedly.

“Yes, I do. And let's leave your hair hanging over your shoulders instead of braiding it today. You have such pretty, soft hair, it's a shame to braid it.”

“Julie's hair is curly.”

“It's pretty, too, but not any prettier than yours. Stop comparing yourself to Julie. You're different girls, so you should be what God made
you
to be.”

“Oh!” Lauren said, and reached her hand to touch Carissa's cheek.

Carissa blinked away the unaccustomed moisture in her eyes. Taking Lauren's hand, she said, “Let's go for breakfast. Paul has made pancakes with sausages this morning.”

Soon after breakfast, Paul herded the three children into his pickup and took them into Yuletide to go to school. Since they'd met children their ages the night before, they didn't seem to mind going to a strange school.

“I'll help decorate the central Christmas tree while I'm in town. I'll stay until school is out—probably at three o'clock. Hope you have a nice, quiet day.”

In fact, the house seemed too quiet after they left, and Carissa marveled that a few days had changed her perspective. Without Paul and the children, the
silence seemed strange as she straightened the house for the day.

The girls had spread the covers over their beds. Although it was a makeshift effort, after Carissa checked to find that Lauren's sheets were dry, she left the beds alone. She wouldn't take away from the independence they'd learned from their mother.

Carissa had finished tidying the house by mid-morning, and she was restless. She walked along the lakefront for an hour, and then decided to go into Yuletide. She needed to open an account at the local bank, and she thought she might be helpful in decorating the community tree. Did she really have a yen to decorate the tree, or did she want to be where Paul was? If so, it was a new sensation for her to deliberately seek the company of a man.

She arrived at the town hall just as the eight volunteers stopped for lunch. She eyed the twenty-foot-tall spruce tree and the ladders that leaned against it. “Any place for a person who prefers her feet on the ground when she works?”

“We're taking a break now,” Paul said. “Come along and eat with us, and then we'll find a job for you.”